Final Destiny
by jadedwish
Summary: AU Hermione was supposed to be killed by Severus Snape. Draco has been haunted by her death day and night for reasons beyond his understanding. Draco and Hermione meet again with questions, disbelief, and horror.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: There is only one owner to the Harry Potter universe and that certainly isn't me. There should be no question to who that is, right? _

Draco Malfoy never found Hermione Granger attractive. Oh, he may have been unable to come up with any insults as he scrutinized every feature of hers when she was all dolled up; he still found her plain. Not one feature of her compelled him to spare her a second glance after each of his intensive studies. How could he see her as an angel at her death's door? Was he that twisted?

Raising his quill, he added another dark line to that sketch of Granger. With every single scratch of his quill, he was replicating the exact image of one of Granger's final moments.

He had tried desperately to forget what had happened. He threw a trauma every time his parents brought up the final battle and stayed in the library reading. However, it seemed like the harder he tried not to think about Granger, the more he thought of her. Finally, he thought that he could try to sketch out Granger's final moments to stop her from haunting him.

With his quill raised above his inkpot, he paused as his mother knocked and shoved open the door. He could see her relief switch quickly into disbelief.

"Why are you drawing?" Draco's mother, in confusion, lost her ethereal pose as she stared at her son.

Draco realized that his mother was worried about him. Hell, he was worried about himself. Of all the things he could have been doing, he was sketching. He hated any mention of his former talent because it had been the only thing he was proud of. It was a reminder of what he had lost. He used to sketch when he was younger, but lost the gift when he was about eight. The sketches no longer moved as they did in pictures. He could still make very realistic sketches; they just were not magical. Nothing that a muggle could not do.

"I dreamed of that night." He had tried to hold back those words, but they had slipped out in a murmur . He had been unable to get enough rest since the final battle, two weeks ago.

His mother nodded and left him alone. She knew that the battle was awful. She was there. There was nothing to do but let time undo the memories.

Draco was left there to study his memories of that battle. Trying to figure out why Granger was haunting him.

He, like most of the other death eaters, had started to head towards the place where Potter and the Dark Lord was dueling, when the Order's members started to retreat due to appearance of a rising phoenix in the sky. Professor Snape led him towards that area while he weighted if he should stand guard with those commanded to stand guard if such a thing was to happen. Draco could not help notice that the only sound came from their footsteps. The sudden quiet, especially after the nosy battle, was eerie. Much more than during the battle, with the screams and cries of horror and pain.

Granger was sprawled on top of Potter. It was apparent that she was still trying to shield Potter. Draco could not help but wonder why nobody was doing anything to finish them off, but decided that the Dark Lord wanted to play with them first. That was not what he found when he were closer. Granger had raised a strong protective shield that was slowing dissipating. He was certain that they were like wolves waiting for the moment for it to die out before attacking. They would not want to waste their energy sending spells that bounce back to themselves. Well, they did not want to continue to waste their energy. He was sure most of them had no patience.

The Dark Lord was standing right at the end with his wand pointed towards Potter and Granger, with his left hand raised up to signal to them to not do anything. Draco guessed he wanted his final victory.

Draco could help himself from locating his parents, despite his fear that he would not see them. He could not keep himself not knowing. With that known, he returned his attention to Granger. Granger who looked like an angel. Granger who was speaking to Potter so calmly. He was still too far to know what exactly she was saying.

They had finally reach the second crowd of deatheaters. Draco noticed that Hermione had raised her head for a second with a hint of despair in her eyes. That quickly replace by relief and then resolution. It was clear that she was not expecting to be rescued; she feared too much for those who attempted to do so. That was the only time that he was mesmerized by her eyes. Brown eyes that he had found so plain, so average, so unworthy of second glance.

"Her…Her…mione. I'm so tired…." Harry rasped. It struck Draco that it was odd that Granger was not doing anything to heal Potter. Then he finally took a good look at Potter. Potter was hurt too badly that even a miracle would not help. He would die any moment from his wounds and that Granger was stupid for staying.

"Harry, it is okay. If you are tired, take a rest. Everything will be alright" Hermione murmured as she smoothed his hair back.

"But I still need to fight….I don't want…still nee….."

"Shush. Harry you do not need to stay awake. Close your eyes Just take a rest." Hermione interrupted and blinked hard. "Listen to my voice. Let me help you sleep and forget. I don't think that you heard many fairy tales. Let me tell you one. Once upon a time…."

The way she treated Potter made everything seem surreal. Only Granger could tell a child's bedtime story in that motherly tone. She was barely old enough to be a mother and she was mothering a son that was around her age. Well, it was not as if she did not have any mothering experience, he mused, she certainly had looked after Potter and Weasel. As if Potter was not dying. As if everything was okay. It was the only time that she looked comforting, while she usually looked like a obsessively overbearing parent. Maybe there was a reason why Potter and Weasel kept her close by.

Draco noticed that Potter's eyelids had stopped fluttering. Within a few seconds, Granger had clutched Potter tightly. Her head tucked into his neck to cover her crying. He had never thought he felt pity for her, but he did now.

"Rest in peace, Harry." Hermione said in that calm voice. She straighten Harry's position and smoothed his hair back. She stood up facing Voldemort with her wand pointed towards him. The few seconds she stood there serenely, as if she had not known that she will be killed soon. Not only killed, but torture. She was the only one left in mist of a murderous crowd. Draco was sure that he would have killed himself instead of trying to fight with that known outcome.

The protective shield finally died. Hermione wordlessly sending a spell with a flash of blue light to the Dark Lord, which was sent to the side with his shield. Another swish of his wand sent Hermione sprawl again on the ground with her wand where she originally stood. He signal us to surround them, which we quickly followed his directions.

"Severus! Here is the thing second thing you have requested from me. I give you the chance to kill the most annoying mudblood that you have every had meet. One that you had to teach for six years."

Professor Snape rushed forward to Granger as he thank the Dark Lord, abandoning Draco. He sent a spell that cut an open wound in Granger's chest. He smirked and sent another spell that vanished her completely. Lord Voldemort look at him with disbelief.

"Well, Severus. Are you sure you are not trying to save her?"

"Of course, I have sent her to slowly die from blood loss from her wound without the company of anyone. If anyone, certainly only muggles, they will tear her apart because of dress robe she is wearing signifies that she is a witch."

Draco believed that it was the sickest way a person could laugh. If the Dark Lord could be considered a person. It gave him creeps and he could help shiver as he thought of Granger dying alone. He could not wonder what Granger had accomplished by staying with Potter until he died. It seemed crazy, yet touching. He would give anything for that kind of loyalty.

He was shocked when he found himself in his room alone, sunlight on his desk announcing the change in time. Time had passed unnoticed again. He mentally berated himself for finding Granger beautiful in those last moments in her red robes, her white healer robes covered by blood; he should have found her nauseating. He cursed himself for being mesmerized by her eyes; her eyes were too plain, too average. He wondered if he was crazy for finding Granger courageous and motherly; she was reckless and bossy. He was distressed that war had done nothing but weaken him so that he could only relive what he saw as Granger's last moments. No death had left such an impact on him, even the ones that he caused. Not only that, he had been unable to hate her in Hogwarts. He found her worthless of that. He had only disliked her for her blood, her plainness, and her annoying presence.

He studied that sketch slowly. He noted that Granger's features were perfect and wondered if it were from his faulty memory or if her perfection was what made her seem so plain. There was no imperfection to draw attention to her. There was something bothering him and made him wonder what he was missing. Ah, that was what he was missing, the mark that shown that she was a healer.

With the last stroke of his quill, he placed it in the inkpot to further study the finished sketch. As he stared at the sketch, he slowly backed away from his desk in horror, knocking his chair aside. The sketch was moving. Granger was once again smoothing Potter's hair.


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: Please see Chapter 1_

Hermione couldn't have been more annoyed. She was being babied by _this _nurse again. She did not know how she had the fortune to be assigned to a nurse that was very interested in her former doctor. A doctor that offered to be her guardian even though she was twenty years old. Well, with her luck, nothing seemed impossible. She was the queen of weirdness.

"Oh, Hermione! This shot is only to hurt a little. You are such a brave girl!" The nurse exclaimed.

Hermione forced back the urge to snap at her and managed to give a small smile. It took all her effort to avoid grimacing at her tone. She knew she should be more nervous about the needle the nurse was holding. Not that she was afraid of needles. This nurse was incompetent. She ended up with a nice bruise after every shot she received from this nurse. However, it was this nurse's _perfect_ bedside attitude that wired up her nerves.

"Good girl! You are just so good with taking shots! How can you be so brave? Most people don't like taking shots."

Hermione, nearly at the end of her patience, gave another tentative smile. She did not even wonder why nobody wanted _her_ around needles; she knew, as she was another victim of _hers_. Most people would have been complaining, but she had no strength even though she had been here for a month. She just wanted more time alone to straighten out her life. The nurse continued to chatter and Hermione blocked her out.

"….brave…resilient."

Hermione winced. She had no idea what she was talking about, but she guessed that the nurse was mentioning her so called bravery. She did not feel brave at all. She was very scared about her future because of her missing memories. Hermione tried not to hold back her words, but they had slipped out in a weak whisper.

"I try to be brave. I am a …." Hermione's voiced drifted off as she wondered what she was about to say. It was at the tip of her tongue. But she had lost it. Totally lost it. Was it something else that she was about to remember? She should be happy that she was close to remembering something, but she wasn't. Instead, she was in despair, wondering if she would ever remember more. She was starting to remember bits and pieces, but they were not enough. She tried to rethink her words as the nurse bustled around her and then tucked in her blanket.

"You seem tired! I'll be back soon!" The nurse left, rattling her metal tray as she left her room.

She had finally left, thought Hermione. That nurse had been taking her time because she was hoping that her family doctor, Dr. Septimus Clayton would stop by. Hermione often wondered about Dr. Clayton. Dr. Clayton, who was paying for her stay at the hospital and was currently making plans for her to stay over at his house until she was ready to face the world alone.

Dr. Clayton, the neighbor, doctor and family friend. She wondered why he was doing so much for her, since no anyone else would. She cringed at the thought that no one had visited her except for Dr. Clayton and some of the other hospital staff that she had worked with. Not that she remembered any of them, but it was slightly comforting. But she oftened wondered why the rest of her family won't visit her and her lack of friends. Her parents may be dead, but she still had four grandparents. Four grandparents, who according to Dr. Clayton, who had disowned her due to their bigoted ideas.

She recounted Dr. Clayton's grimace as she mentioned that she had a fleeting memory of riding a horse. It was as it he did not want her to remember. It made her wonder why.

Dr. Clayton was friendly enough. However, from what she had heard from the gossiping nurses, she knew that he was without any family and few friends, even though he was very well liked and known. At first she was worried that his intentions were sinister and less than proper. However, now, she did not know what they were. She did not think that anyone would do so much without expecting anything back. Her own grandparents had disowned her. She had no friends who remembered her. Her parent's other friends had maybe visited her twice, then never returned. She hated thinking that it was because he pitied her. She forced herself to think about more optimistic reasons. Maybe her fate was changing from bad to good, since it could not stay bad forever, right? She reassured herself that he seemed to truly care about her. Surely that meant something, right? That was her last thought as she drifted off once again into her dreams.

He was watching over Hermione again. It was no secret that Hermione was his favorite patient, even though it was highly forbidden. He, Dr. Septimus Clayton, should not be playing favorites. He may not have appeared to treated her differently than any of his other patients, but his expressions and frequent passing of her room betrayed him. Only a few people knew that he was paying for her stay at the hospital; he had gained their promise that they would not release that information and told them that he was very close to her parents. The newer medical staff members, who did not know the former Hermione Granger, justified it by the reasoning that he could not avoid it since he was not heartless. He had her as a patient since she was a child until she was sixteen-years-old. The older staff, who have seen a timid, fearful child grow up to be a confident caring lady were sadden that she was reverted to a lost child. It did help that Hermione had volunteered at the hospital during one summer and endeared herself to everybody who meet her. The older staff could not blame Dr. Clayton from playing favorites because they were also guilty of the same thing.

Hermione had always been special to Dr. Clayton. From the first time he had seen her, he had been haunted by what he knew would happen to Hermione. He had felt the need to protect her, so he had jumped at the chance to buy the house across the street from where she lived with her parents.

Dr. Clayton always had a hidden soft spot for Hermione. He had been shocked at her protectiveness of a kitten that nobody wanted. He could still remember their first meeting.

He was about to check Hermione's blood pressure, when something furry brushed against him. He thought that it was from the timid four-year-old moving her uncontrollable long hair, when a wet, warm tongue brushed against his hand. He frowned as he wondered what it was.

Hermione jumped as she noticed his frown. She wrapped her arms around something tiny and backed up, while her mother looked befuddled and was slowly moving closer. Hermione's fear was apparent. Her wide eyes, shaking hands betrayed her. Although he remained calm as the truth dawned, he could help but feel that fate was playing another joke on him. He wanted to pretended that it was nothing, but something about his magical child's fear had touched him.

"What was that?" Dr. Clayton questioned gently as he moved closer to her. Hermione shook her head and looked away. Her mother quickly move forward and hug Hermione, giving a questioning look that Hermione avoided.

"Dr. Clayton will just be taking your blood pressure, like how the nurse did earlier." Hermione's mother tried to comfort her, but Dr. Clayton knew that Hermione's mother did know something odd was going on. Her nervousness betrayed her effort in diverting his attention by reminding him that he should be taking her blood pressure.

The taking of Hermione's blood pressure went smoothly. It was only when he was about to leave, when a tiny, white kitten suddenly appeared next to his feet.

Hermione broke down. She scrabbled for the kitten with horrified slobs, as her mother looked fearfully at the doctor.

Dr. Clayton smiled and just said calmly to her mother, "I would not let anyone know that Hermione hid a kitten."

Hermione's mother smiled in relief, believing that the doctor had not noticed that the kitten had appeared out of thin air. She kneeled down to hug Hermione as she looked at the kitten as if she had never seen it before. Dr. Clayton concentrated on Hermione whimpering and finally figured out that she was repeating the statement: "It's just a kitten; a kitten no one wanted."

Dr. Clayton could not help but pity the mother's fear of people finding out about her daughter's special abilities. He feared that her mother would be ashamed of her as more people showed their fear and hatred of the unknown, and was pressured by his lacking conscience to reassure at any cost. He said calmly, "Some children are very special because they have _special_ abilities." That statement had captured the mother's attention, and he continued, "It is a shame that they would have to hid their abilities. Not that they should be ashamed. They should be proud, but our society is very fearful of anything out of ordinary. Hermione is a very kind child. I look forward to seeing her again on her next regular check up." He smiled again and left the room for his next patient.

From the first time he had seen her, he had known that she was magical. Hermione had made her kitten invisible by her will. He understood that she would be never accepted in both worlds, magical and non-magical. He had known from then that she would face much, but he had never guess it was this. He never believed that she would share his fate. She was left with no family, no friends, and a shadowed start in life. She was literally broken and sent to bleed to death or be killed by muggles because she was a witch and only saved because fate had placed her at the parking lot of this hospital where he had found her. The only blessing was that she had amnesia. She remembered nothing of her past. He frowned as he thought of how fragile she was. Perhaps her memory would return when she is ready to face the past. He was not worried that she would never gain her memory back. That was what he hoped for. Sure, it was a pity that she didn't remember her happier memories, her lovely family, and her friends. There was just too much that she should not remember. Some things were better off forgotten.

The clattering of the medicine tray brought his attention away Hermione. He was tucking in the blankets to ensure that she was not cold. He nodded at the nurse as he left Hermione's bedside assured by the fact that she would not complain that he was making too many visits. He was well liked by the staff. He was a good doctor that was friendly and had exceptionally good looks. He was athletic, tall, blue-eyed, blond, and had strong facial structures. No one knew how he looked like. He didn't even remembered how he looked like after these twenty years. He glanced at the mirror located above the sink as he wash his hands to try to imagine how he should look like. Hermione was still in a isolated room with many precautions even a month after he had found her. He only knew that his height and stature were the only things that he did not transfigure and the way he looked like…. Well, the only one who would have been uglier was maybe Snape. He had learned that people naturally trusted good-looking people. The only magic he had done these years were to add wrinkles and lighten some of his hair. Not that he had not been tempted to try to cure Hermione by magic. He did not dare because he was afraid that magic will bring harmful attention to Hermione or it would bring back her memories. He cast one last glance at Hermione as he closed her door. He would fix her bleak future. He would break the boundary between patient and doctor and bring her home. He would give her a home and a new start. He already loved her as if she were his child from her first show of her magical ability. There was nothing that he would not do for her.

Severus Snape was sure that Hermione Granger was not dead. Her wand had stung him several times when he tried to use it. But he kept it hidden in the most secret part of his brain. He feared not for his own life, but for hers. That silly girl was stupid for staying with Potter, but what can you ask from people from that House? He had wondered why she wasn't sorted into Ravenclaw, and finally knew. She lacked common sense. He wanted to find her, but feared that it would bring unwanted attention to her.


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: Please see Chapter 1_

Severus Snape did not appreciate breaking wards set by a depressed, spoiled brat. If it were not for Narcissa, he would not be standing in front of this silly child's room. He always held a soft spot for mothers who would do anything for their children, so naturally he was forced to try to ease her mind. He was annoyed at Draco's tantrums, but he could not ignore Narcissa's plead to break Draco's wards. Narcissa was too prideful to ask for help unless she thought that it was absolutely necessary. He did not believe that it was necessary to see how Draco was doing. Draco should be fine. It was not the first time that he had locked himself in his room. He did it plenty of times in his childhood and recently. It just amazed him how Narcissa was still fearful of Draco being locked in his room. Draco was old enough to be left alone.

With a concentrated glare, he traced his wand tip around the dragon on the door and prepared to stick in the old fashion key, as soon as the dragon lit up, but nothing happened. He waited for a few more seconds in disbelief. Thinking that he had missed tracing a part of the dragon, he did it again. Nothing happened.

Severus reeled in his urge to start cursing at the door. That was not going to help the situation at all. For some reason, Draco was able to apply his favorite ward so strongly that it was impossible to break without effort. Thinking about how he could punish this brat, he concentrated harder and traced the dragon much slower. The dragon flashed slightly for a second before it dimmed. He stared at the door with disbelief, wondering how Draco was able to cast that ward with so much strength. If it were normally set, even Goyle and Crabbe could break the ward. They just did not break the ward due to Draco; Draco would be inside brooding, ready to starting his fits the second he noticed anyone.

The sound of breaking china brought him back to present. He knew that Lucius was back. He decided that he had quite enough of this obnoxious brat. Let his father deal with him. With that reasoning, he tucked his wand in his sleeve pocket. He adjusted his robes accordingly, and sent a final glare at the door, daring it to open.

With a swirl of his robes, he turned to leave, but at the last second he decided that he will not be best by that child. He studied the outline of the dragon, noting every detail, as he withdrew his wand. Just as he was about to start tracing the dragon, he was slammed on the door.

With a curse at the tip of his tongue, he noticed the expensive cologne that Lucius always wore. Holding on the last of his patience to give him a lecture about running about in hallways, he risen to his feet as he straighten his robes. It unsettled him that Lucius had forgotten to undo the charm that covered his footsteps, but he dismissed it. He offered a helping hand, when he finally glanced at Lucius. Lucius was unnaturally pale and shaky. Not only that, Lucius had not greeted him. If Lucius' wand was not pointed toward Draco's door, Severus would have attacked him.

Lucius ignored his helping hand and traced the dragon with his wand. Nothing happened. He looked franticly at Severus for help.

Severus, believing that Narcissa had hysterically told Lucius that his precious heir was in moral danger, snapped at Lucius, "I am sure Draco is okay. It was not the first time he locked…." Severus stopped when Lucius held up his right hand, signaling him to stop.

Severus noticed that Lucius was holding a parchment tightly in his left hand. Lucius stared at the door for a second, willing it to open. Then he handed the rolled parchment to Severus with his hand shaking that Severus had a bit of trouble getting a hold of it. Finally, Severus had the parchment. Severus wondered for a second if he wanted to see what it contained, hesitated. Reasoning that he needed to know what was wrong to fix up this mess, he unrolled the parchment.

He was not sure how long he stared at that picture of Miss Granger and Potter. It was what he had never expected. He broke away from its compelling power that held his attention, when Lucius finally spoke.

"He sent it to me. I was with the Dark Lord. He…"

Severus, losing patience, interrupted, "Well, what is Draco's sentence?" Without pausing, for an answer, he continued. "Is is not enough that Draco has refused to do his first job, that he has to kill himself? Is he insane? What does he think he is doing?"

"No, no punishment." Lucius looked a bit relief, as if it finally dawned to him, that his son would not die or punished.

"He was given his next assignment" Starting to laugh hysterically, he stood up and straighten his hair. He was not going to lose Draco. Draco was going to be fine. He just needed to see him, just to be sure.

Severus was shocked for quite a few moments before he stated dryly, "Well, then that is not expected." With a resolution that he will skin that brat alive after making sure he was okay, he placed all his concentration into tracing the dragon as slowly as he could. He knew that he had to reach Draco; something was awfully wrong.

This time the dragon shone brightly, and it held. Opening the lock, Severus shoved the door so that it opened with a bang. Placing a steadying hand on Lucius' arm, Severus entered with Lucius.

Lucius stumbled into the room, with Severus holding on to him. He sighed with relief when he noticed his son sitting in the middle of the room, staring at them.

Severus noting Draco was okay, was about to give him the lashing that he deserved. However, he had noticed that Lucius was started to get very angry. Lucius was now shaking with anger. It was frightening to see Lucius get scared to lose his cool composure. It was not often that Lucius lost his control, his movements marked with cool elegance. It was certainly interesting to see Lucius furious. Severus reasoning that he desired seeing something entertaining, Draco's punishment. Blocking out the outraged lecture (he figured that only the punishment would be interesting), he glanced around the room and noticed that the wall on the right of him was covered by Draco's bed sheet. Wondering, what Draco was hiding, he strolled over and yanked it down.

He would never expect a moving painting of the final battle. It was the same scene of the moving sketch he saw before, but this time, he was not blocked by his worry of Draco. Well, not as much worry. He was insane enough to sent a sketch to his father when he was with the Dark Lord. It did not matter where he found it.

He could not grasp what was important about that painting. He had the same hutch he had that night when he sent Miss Granger away. This strange feeling that she was important for winning the war was quite weird. He had long decided that she would be an hindrance. Certainly, she could not be the hand of Harry, which would be able to finally defeat the Dark Lord as stated by prophecy. If Weasley had not died in one of the first battles, he would have bet it was him, even that was impossible, rather than Miss Granger. Miss Granger could not be used as a weapon of any sort, unless that person wanted to commit suicide. Not that she was the killing type.

He did not know why he felt that she was important, since it was against everything that he knew about her. She may be considered the most powerful witch of her generation, but she was not that special. Her intelligence and thirst for knowledge had masked the fact that her magical power levels were only slightly above average. Not only that, that silly girl was too compassionate; she even adored the unwanted. She did not think logically. It did not shock him that she became a healer. It was not because she had wanted to be one once she found out that healers were equivalent to doctors of the muggle world. She had decided to fight by Potter's side, shortly after she figured out that he needed her. He had smirked when he heard that the Order was starting to train the trio for battle, not that he doubted the power of Potter, like it was expected. It pained him to admit that Potter was a powerful wizard. He had no idea why the Order was training Miss Granger to kill and many of the order believed that they knew her better, including those foolish teachers blinded by her success at Hogwarts. They were better off training Longbottom, as clumsy as that foolish boy had been.

He tried to look contemplating as held back his urge to laugh hysterically when Lupin told him that Hermione was doing horribly in training, since he did not want to miss anything. Like he thought, she may be the first to learn the counter curses, but she was totally hopeless against learning how to use the darker, more useful curses. Finally, just before they gave up training her and lock her up for becoming a liability in battle, she had came up with a clever plan that left her useful for the war effort. She had decided to be a healer than followed Potter everywhere to heal him on spot so that he could fight more.

Studying the painting once more, it finally struck him. Hermione was mothering Harry, for all those years. He could dismiss all she had done, with elaborate explanations, except he could not do anything but admit this. Many believed that to Potter, Mrs. Weaseley was the mother figure because they have never seen Potter rebel or snap at her. Potter was too polite to her. Miss Granger was quite a different story. Potter was comfortable enough to yell at her, take out his anger at her, or even rebel against listening to her just because he felt like it. Miss Granger may be young, but she was certainly a mothering figure. Maybe she was supposed to mother the person who defeated the Dark Lord from the experiences she gained from mothering Potter. With that thought, Severus was certain he was losing his mind. Perhaps, he was desperate enough to think of little ways that it was possible for them to win the losing war. Actually, the lost war. They had lost.

With that depressing thought, he turn his attention to Lucius and Draco. He was quite startled to see Lucius commenting Draco on his talent in his normal, prideful way, with Draco staring at his father blankly. What happened to the punishment? Was Lucius daft? Draco's talent?

"What talent? Lucius, do you not remember Draco's next assignment?" Snape questioned in horror, as if he expected Lucius had lost his mind from the scare Draco gave him.

"Well, Draco is quite a talented artist. Lord Voldemorte wants him to draw a picture book that shows who exactly is Potter to educate our later generations." Lucius said arrogantly.

That was certainly not what Severus expected.


	4. Chapter 4

-1_Disclaimer: Please see chapter 1_

Severus Snape suppressed his urge to kill Draco Malfoy. How did he ever think that Neville was the most annoying brat that he had ever taught? Neville was inept, but held a bit of possibility to learn about potions, no matter how little. It was impossible to teach Draco how to survive one day in the muggle world without looking like lunatic or exposing himself as a wizard.

"Why should I cross the street when the green light is on and the stop at the curb when the red light is on? What kind of stupid thing is that? Why does red stand for? Stop? How about green…" Draco continued his rant as he paced in front of Severus.

Severus, finally losing grips of his temper, pointed his wand at Draco and silently silenced him. He was quite pleased to see Draco continue for a few seconds to move his mouth to say something, but found himself unable to hear himself. Draco paused and tried to say a few chosen words, but was unable to. Finally, he looked around and saw Severus standing with his wand pointed him. Draco backed out when he saw Severus Snape's apparent anger.

"Just know that that is what you are suppose to do!" Severus said quietly. Raising his wand to allow Draco to speak was harder than he anticipated. He had dealt with this whining, insane brat for the past two days, preparing him for a visit to the Muggle world tomorrow. Draco was going to the muggle world to get a _feel_ for how Harry grew up. He needed to observe the muggle world to be able to do his assignment. Draco was finally able to remember everything he should, but still liked to hear his own voice as he question everything he was suppose to do. Perhaps that was going to help him remember how he was suppose to act, but Severus seriously doubt it.

Severus thought that he had enough of Draco's questioning to last a lifetime. Finally, he decided to end his Muggle 101 lecture with a final warning.

"Remember, at no time should you take out your wand, unless you are apparating out of danger. Muggles are very sensitive to magic and would attempt to kill you…"

Draco blanked out on Professor Snape as he drone on. His father had lectured him early about the necessity of blending in with Muggles for him to do his assignment. After all, he had to replicate all aspects of Potter's life to make this children history book capture the failure of his life. He was unable to keep the smirk away from his face as he thought of the insanity of him doing a picture history book of Harry Potter for children as his assignment. It was a dream job since he did not have to fight and had plenty of time for brooding in his room. Plus, he had three years to do this assignment.

Severus was quite annoyed when he notice Draco's glazed eyes and smirk. He smacked the back of Draco's head.

Draco, raising his right hand to smooth the place where Severus hit him. He put on his most innocence expression as he tried to keep track of whatever Professor Snape was teaching and wonder if he was going to get to sleep before his little trip tomorrow.

At the same time, Hermione was working hard at untangling her uncontrollable hair, trying to resist the urge to throw the comb out the door. Hermione knew that she should be happy that she would finally leave the hospital after tonight. She had spent nearly nine months there and it was time for her to join the real world. However, there was nothing in the real world that was hers. Nothing at all. No family, no friends. Trying to pull herself out of her dark mood, she attempted to comfort herself by thinking of helpful _guardian_ Dr. Septimus Clayton, but she couldn't stop doubting that he would abandon her soon. Well not abandon her, leave her alone. It would not be abandonment if he stop offering help since he was not obliged to help her. Her friends, if she ever had any, left her. Her grandparents had disowned her. She would not be surprised that Dr. Clayton would leave her on her own any moment. He had done more than anyone she had remembered.

Hermione could not stop worrying about her bleak future. She was still very weak, though deemed strong enough to leave the hospital. She would not be able to worked to support herself when she was barely able to dress. Finally, she was tired of trying to sleep. Rising shakily on her hands she sat up and swung her legs so that she was sitting at the end of the bed. She got off the bed and stood for a second to center herself. Keeping her hand on the bed for a little support, she walked to the hospital provided walker. Using the walker, she started her troubled walk down the hallways of the hospital.

Dr. Clayton knew that tonight would be a hard night for Hermione, she would be leaving her only familiar place. He had stayed in the dark corner watching her again. He knew how much she needed those walks, so he did not stop her nightly travels. That did not mean that he would not follow her, ensuring that she did not fall. She was still quite weak and though the other doctors believe that magical caused brain injury would undone itself if the patient lived, he had known better. Magic can cause the same amount of lasting damage as the kinds formed by muggle accidents. Hermione's innate magic was acting up. It had healed her so that there was very minor brain damage and will continue to heal her. He was certain that she will be cured fully from her brain damage.

As he followed Hermione at a safe distance, where he would be to break any of her falls with his wandless magic, he thought of his plans for Hermione. He was not planning to leave Hermione on her own since he was found her again no matter what Hermione thought. He was going to care for her, despite his non-existing experiences as a parent. He had moved from the house across the street from the Granger's house to one that was closer to the hospital. He did not want Hermione to be at a place where she was more likely to have her memories revived. He will be moving soon with Hermione to a safe place once she was stronger and he will disguise it as a chance to work at another hospital.

Draco, stepping out of the taxi, was a bit overwhelmed by the sight of so many Muggles. He had paid the driver with the excess amount of currency and had resisted the urged to jump when his hand contacted the driver's hand. The driver was a _Muggle_, for the sake of Merlin. He also left a tip, even with the horrible driving. How could Muggles get anywhere with this sort of snail driving?

Holding his head high, he strolled down the street, trying to locate a café where he could observe the public at peace. He looked at his watch, every now and then, to look as if he belonged. He noticed that he was looking quite different from most people in the streets. They were wearing common clothes of Muggles that some wizards had taken up wearing at Hogwarts. He was wearing the best of the Muggles, a three piece gray suit. Professor Snape had advised against wearing a suit because he believed that Draco would have more trouble pretending to be an affluent muggle rather than a college-aged-student that was bound to act insanely at times. However, his mother had insisted that her son would pretend to be the best type of muggle, which was a businessmen.

Finally, he located a café with outside terrace. There, he was ordered a cup of espresso from a waitress, just as he was supposed to. He was sitting there for a couple of minutes, watching the muggles, before he remember his prop. Quickly, he took about the Muggle toy called a laptop, and was relief when it "turned on" with the first button he pushed. He was able to open the file he was supposed to when the waitress finally returned with his coffee.

After five minutes, Draco decided that the Muggles were not much different from wizards as they were doing their shopping or the way they walked down the street, except from the way they dressed. He was thoroughly bored and wanted to return home, but he knew that an early arrival home would bring the displeasure of his parents and Professor Snape. Beginning to brood, he stared at the passing Muggles not noticing that his cup of coffee was slowly cooling down.

Something had brought him out of his brooding. Draco sat up and looked out in the streets again. There, it was a girl that resembled Granger, leaning against a middle-aged man. There was no way that it was Granger. She was dead and he was out of his mind to think that it was Granger. Looking again at his watch, he decided that he had sat there long enough. He gestured for the waitress and asked for the bill. Everything occurred the way it was supposed to until he was exiting the café. There he bumped against a muggle girl. Without sparing a glance at the girl, he helped her up. He was about to leave, when she said, "Thank you."

That voice sounded so much like Granger's. He step back from her as if he were burned so that he could studied her, to prove to himself that it was possible that it was someone that sound like her. He saw that she looked exactly like Granger. It had to be a mistake. Granger was killed by Professor Snape. She had to be, or else Professor Snape was so dead. Maybe she was a cousin of Granger's. He was staring at her for so long, that the girl was looking at him so questioning. Yes, that was not Granger. She would have questioned me to death. But then she tucked her hair behind her ear the same way Granger did.

"Do you know me?" Finally gathering his senses, he ran from her, running into the man that he had seen her with early. He had enough with this Granger-look-alike. It seemed that Merlin was playing jokes with him, preventing him from leaving this nightmare.

"Hermione, are you okay?" Dr. Clayton said, without a glance at the young man that nearly ran him down. That was the last thing that Draco remembered and enough was enough.

Draco had fainted.


	5. Chapter 5

_Please see chapter 1 for disclaimer. _

Draco sensed that there was someone standing next to the couch he was laying in. He was certain that it was not either of his parents. His father would never checked up on him if he were sleeping. His mother was never this clumsy. She would never drop things in this bed. There was an intruder. He laid still waiting for the best opportunity to defend himself.

That person gently grasped his left arm, straighten it, and begun to pat him at the joint. Now that was beyond strange. What did she want? He was certain that this person was a woman since he could smell the scented soap she had used. Unpleasant as it was, it still smelt womanly. Squirming a bit to test the woman, he was surprised to notice that he was not on his couch at the same time the woman tentatively said, "Sir. Are you awake? Sir?"

Draco, quite shocked that he was nowhere near his house. He doubt that he was even in his turf. The woman begun to probe his arm, searching for something, Draco opened his eyes ever so slightly, so that he could see a bit. It was a woman about his mother's age and she was wiping the probed area with a cool fluid. Then she was holding a needle, and eyeing his arm. Jerking back his arm, Draco sat up and yelled, "What are you doing?!"

The woman jumped up and backed away from him. Then tentatively, she began to move a bit closer as she said, "Sir, you were unconscious and brought to the hospital to be treated. I'm Nancy and your nurse will be here shortly. He is currently dealing with another patient." Moving so that she was just close to him as before, she held the needle close to his arm, as Draco stared at her, so shocked that he was unable to express his horror or move his arm as she brought the needle close to his arm and said, "I will need some blood for some of the standard tests that your doctor ordered." Then it struck him. Doctors, they were barbaric muggles who thought they were healers. They cut people apart and sew them back together. He wanted to run, but was unable to. It was as if he were hit with a binding spell. It was worst that any of his worst battles. He had to sit there until he could leave. He had to endure because it was the stupid Muggles' turf, until he could leave quietly. He was done.

"It's going to hurt a bit." He was unable to move as he watch her insert the needle in him and fill up the bottles with his blood. He was unable to keep himself wondering what she was going to do with his blood. As a wizard, he was always worried that someone would use his blood for a dark potion or curse, but this was worst. He couldn't imagine what kind of treatment he would have to endure for his so called good. How did he end up it this form of hell? A muggle hospital.

He was speechless, until she began to bind the needle and its components to his arm tightly with a sticky sort of papery material. Unable to keep his mouth shut, he whispered, "Aren't you going to remove that?"

"It would be removed before you leave the hospital."

"Oh."

"Andrew will be with you shortly."

"Oh." Draco never felt more trapped. What was he going to do?

Severus Snape was quite worried about Draco. That insane brat had somehow ended up in a hospital. He reasoned that Draco had done something that was odd enough to have him sent to a hospital for treatment of a psychological crisis. Luckily, whatever he had done was not strange enough for Draco to expose his true nature. The muggles would have killed him by now.

Severus was now impatiently waiting for the Dark Lord to dismiss him. He just hope that Draco had the sense to follow the directions of the Muggle healers and medical assistants. Every minute passed increased the risk that Draco would do something that showed the Muggles that he was a wizard, which would his death sentence.

He had received a phone call twenty minutes ago, just before he was called by the Dark Lord. He was told that his son, Draco Snape, was currently at the Emergency Department of the hospital near Miss Granger's house. He was in the process of apparating there, when his Dark Mark had announce that the Dark Lord wanted him.

Now he was there, too busy worrying to listen to the other DE's as they told the Dark Lord their progress with their latest assignments. Finally, the Dark Lord dismissed them, holding up his left hand, as he told them, "Until next time."

Right away, Severus apparated away to rescue Draco. He knew that he had quite a walk, since he could not just appear in the company of muggles.

Draco was quite certain that he was going to be dead. He had undergone some of the weirdest tests for detection of illness. A doctor had came by to ask him what had happened. Draco decided to just answer him truthfully, since he had no idea what to make up. Certainly he would not undergo one of the surgeries if it was for a mental illness, right? He needed to stall for time for Professor Snape to rescue him. He told the doctor that he was seeing things, or more specifically, seeing a person that was dead. It had to be a hallucination. He was already haunted by a classmate that he had seen killed.

The doctor told him that he would write a referral for a psychiatrist. Then he paused, remembering what condition Hermione had when she had shown up, and questioned gently, "What was the name of the girl?"

Draco, thinking that this barbaric muggle was playing with his mind, bitterly snapped, "What does that have to do with anything? She is dead!"

"Well, Mr. Snape, I heard from Dr. Septimus that you had bumped into Hermione…." The doctor stopped talking as he noticed Draco paling. He tentatively asked Draco, "Was your friend Hermione Granger?"

Draco started shaking his head and backing up, whispering, I am losing my mind, repetitively.

The doctor, knowing the fact that Draco did know Hermione, one of his patients that he had discharged that morning. He debated in telling Draco that she was not dead, hoping that it would help. He finally decided to sedate him, when it was clear that Draco was not responding. As he walked out of the door, he wondered what had happened when those wizards had attacked this school and what lasting damages would be left for those left living. No wonder Hermione had no friends visiting. Perhaps, they had seen whatever this young man had seen and thought that she was dead.


	6. Chapter 6

_Please see chapter 1 for disclaimer. _

Draco's parents stared at the screen of the baby monitor that Severus Snape had magicked and installed. They had at first sneered at the idea that they needed a Muggle instrument to monitor their son, who certainly was not a baby no matter how much they wished he was still one. However, even with their bigot ideas about Muggle technology, they could not reason through the idea that it was the last thing that Draco would suspect them doing. They could be able to see what their darling was doing.

Narcissa's hands were shaking slightly as she held tightly to her cup. She was resolved to look as if she were enjoying tea with her husband, when she was busy watching her son's every move. She noted how her husband had not flipped one page of the book he had opened on the table as he frequently glance up at the screen showing their precious son. Her son had gone through a good amount of parchment, but was unable to produce anything that was satisfactory. He constantly crumpled his unfinished sketches before he through them across his room. She noted that his sketches started with one thing, young Harry Potter in a bed that Severus Snape explained to be a hospital bed. Slowly there were more things added, such as that Weasely boy that Harry Potter always tugged around. Draco was having trouble drawing the Mudblood.

He had no trouble drawing Harry Potter in a hospital bed. That seemed to be the only good thing that came out with Draco in a muggle hospital. At least Draco did not seem too traumatized from being in a muggle hospital, but she suppose war could do that to a person. The Weasely boy was also draw effortlessly. Something about the Mudblood was bothering Draco. Draco was not even finishing to see if the sketch would move. It seemed that he was not pleased with what he was drawing. He had drawn her sitting in a chair, on the bed, standing next to the bed, standing near the window numerous of times.

Just thinking of the many times he had drawn her desperately was enough to make her heart ache. She was worried that he would be unable to draw another sketch. The Dark Lord was starting to get a bit impatient to see something after three weeks after Draco's excursion to the muggle world. She was just about to sip her cup of cooled tea when she noticed that Draco was staring at his latest unfinished sketch with his quill raised. Harry Potter and Ron Weasely was drawn the same way before. How was Draco going to draw the Mudblood? Did Draco know how he should draw the Mudblood?

Draco's pause seem infinitely long when it was only for a few short minutes. Narcissa held her breath, not noticing her husband standing up, frowning with worry. This time, Draco seem less frantic in his sketch. Every new line was added with precision. There was a quiet determination centered with the sort concentration that seemed to block out all of his doubts and worries. Within another few minutes, the Mudblood appeared to be standing next to Harry Potter's bed, looking at the door with a questioning look to the door. Then sketch was unmoving. Narcissa was about to get up when she noticed her son adding wayward hair. When he stopped, she noticed that the Mudblood was moving her head slightly as she switched from glancing at the door to glancing at Harry Potter with a worried, questioning look. Narcissa met her husband's glance with a smile. She turned her head back to look at her son when she was struck with the idea that her baby was lost as ever as he stared at the sketch as if he had never seen it. As if he had never seen the Mudblood that way. Which way, she did not know, but she certainly did not like it if it made her son upset. She did not know that Draco did not draw a questioning look on Hermione Granger. Draco had drawn Mudblood Granger looking at Harry with hope and despair, the same way she had looked at him when she thought he knew her. She was hoping for a good report on Potter's condition, but dreading a bad one. She wanted news but feared it would dash her hope. She was losing hope, but desperately holding on to it because it was the only thing leading her on. Granger was certainly not a simple creature.

Dr. Clayton was deeply worried about Hermione. That young man that had bumped into Hermione have been a wizard, but how had Severus Snape have such a good looking son? Perhaps, it was magic or Polyjuice. If it were not for the reveal condition that his fellow doctor had reported to him, he would have taken Hermione and left the area right away, despite the questions and worries that Hermione would have. To this point, he believed that the young man had doubt his own mind and would soon accept that he was losing his mind.

Dr. Clayton knew that he would have to move soon and was quickly making plans to move to another close by town where he would be advancing his healing career. Within a month, they would move and Hermione would be enrolled in the university that he had selected.

He had noticed that Hermione was a bit depressed, and hoped that her thirst for knowledge and a new start would help her out of it. He kept her busy by sending her out shopping for new clothes and school supplies with an elderly widow would lived next to them every day and tutoring her on his off days.

He could hear Hermione sobbing in her sleep and wake during the nights when she thought that nobody could hear her. He did not encourage her to make new friends because he feared her meeting people who knew her, particularly the young man that he had seen. She would have plenty of time to make friends at her university.

He was quite pleased to seen that Hermione's body was healing well, but he couldn't help from worrying about her mind. She seem fearful of her lost memories even though she was desperate to find a way to remember. However, he did not want her to ever to remember, but he did not like the way she was troubled about her past. He could not help but start doubting his judgment that she should not know.

Draco knew he should be please that he had drawn a moving sketch of Potter. He had sent it to the Dark Lord without a second thought and began to start the painting. He would be finished with it tomorrow and send it off with Professor Snape.

He knew that Professor Snape would be giving him more lessons on pretending to be a Muggle before he stepped out into the Muggle world again. He knew that he should be worried about the Dark Lord not being pleased with his painting or about being carted off to a Muggle hospital. He was only worried about seeing the Granger-look-alike. Perhaps he could convince Professor Snape to send him to another town. Like the town that Professor Snape had described before that he said that had many muggle students his age. There he could stay away from _her_, or the memory of her. But he did not know that he would see Hermione Granger shortly, since that town that Professor Snape had described was the one that Dr. Clayton had chosen.


	7. Chapter 7

_Please see chapter 1 for disclaimer_

Severus Snape had it with the Malfoys. He was certainly not going to appear there for a couple of days or else he would be be severely punished by the Dark Lord for murdering his much appreciated artist and two of his followers. The Dark Lord was pleased with the sketch, and later the painting, of a sick Potter and a worried Granger. So pleased that he was willing to let his very talented Professor leave Hogwarts for two weeks, even if it delayed his plans to turn Hogwarts into a military base to train his hand selected recruits as quickly as possible. Severus was supposed to plan in the reconstruction so that it best fit his instructional plans.

For those two weeks, Severus was assigned to teach the spoiled brat how to bend in with the Muggles more. At first, he was content to be able to miss out on the reconstruction of Hogwarts. Unhappy as he was as a student and professor there, Hogwarts was his home for him for so many years. He may have hated Hogwarts students, faculty, and staff, but to change it to a military base to train those lost children into the worst weapons ever seen was too much. Any plans to extend the time he had to change his only sanctuary to a much more horrid place was too much. However, within a day, he would rather spend days and nights there rather than spending any time with the insane Malfoys.

On the first day, he had spent hours with Narcissa and Lucius trying to convince them that it was the best for their precious baby to pretend to be a college student. Of course, they had not agreed until he scared them into it. He had wondered why he was so slow at thinking up the prefect explanation when just a tiny twist of true Muggle healing history was more than enough to leave him free rein to do whatever he wanted. Muggles have not been cutting mentally ill people in the head to severe parts of their brains just to see it they would be cured for no particular reason for many years. Well, he guessed correctly that the prideful Malfoys would not like to visit the St. Mungo's ward that had housed the Longbottoms for many years.

The idiotic boy was the main reason for the continuous pounding in his head. Draco did not stop whining, questioning, and throwing tantrums. He bested Miss Granger at her most annoying acts. For one thing, Severus was wary of smacking, cursing, and hexing that spoiled brat no matter how tempted he was. He did not want the Malfoys to come seeking revenged for punishing their wayward child. He held on to his temper since he was sure that he would not make it out of their manor unscathed. That stupid baby monitor was showing whatever he did in the idiot's room! How he regretted the day he introduced that piece of Muggle technology to the Malfoys.

Hermione Granger was quite tired, but too nervous to sleep. Hermione was moving with Dr. Clayton to a university town where she would shortly start going to start medical school. She had passed the exams with amazing scores that balanced her lack of proof of education after the age of eleven. Dr. Clayton told her that her specialized school was destroyed, leaving no records of any of its many students. However, she found his explanation of how the government had trained her in medical education sequestered at a much more secure place eerie. What was she trained in? It is not as if she were trained in the military. Sometimes she doubted that she had any medical knowledge, because so many terms and ideologies did not seem even a bit familiar. Dr. Clayton had said that it was due to the brain damage, but that he believed that she would relearn it because she had learned it once. That she did, but not without many frustrating days. However, much more disturbing were the many times that she would seem to feel a movement of her right hand combined with a nonsense word would ease a symptom. Was her damage brain giving her delusions or was this the secretive knowledge that she held? She was quite torn between telling Dr. Clayton that she may be too broken to be a good doctor and pushing the thought away with explanations of keeping dangerous knowledge. It was her goal to be a doctor, ever since she had gotten out of the hospital. It gave her strength to make an effort to move forward.

Hermione knew that she would miss Mrs. Stone, the widow that she had been spending much time with. Mrs. Stone invited her to visit her whenever she wanted, but she could tell from Dr. Clayton's expressions that he did not approve her visiting Mrs. Stone later since it would cut in her time of spending time with her classmates, whoever they were. She had not met a single one of them yet, but she knew she would when she moved. She knew that she would be visiting Mrs. Stone, even if she knew that he wanted the best for her. Damaged as her brain was, she was sure that she should decide who she wanted to spend her time with. Mrs. Stone had cooked for her, shopped with her, advised her, comfort her, and support her everyday since she left the hospital.

Dr. Clayton was a quite strange man that left her wondering why he was helping her. At times, especially at three o-clock in the morning, she would worry that his intentions were dishonorable. Why would a family friend do so much for her? She was not crazy, she knew from an overheard phone conversation that he had paid for her medical bills. She was living with him and he made it clear that he would be supporting her though medical school. Mrs. Stone found Dr. Clayton seemed too overprotective, even more overbearing than any parent she had known and had worryingly questioned her about how Dr. Clayton acted with her alone. Dr. Clayton treated her like a fragile child and nothing more. There were no improper or proper touches or looks. Dr. Clayton was simply a very aloof guardian who took his position seriously.

Even though she knew she should be content that there was someone looking after her, she could not help from sometimes guiltily resenting that he was controlling the path she took. She knew she should be happy that there was this one person that seem to care that she was alive. Her grandparents, friends (if she had any), and her parent's friend had all left her. She had nobody.

She hated these restless nights, but just could not sleep. Seconds were as long as minutes and minutes were as long as hours. She thought that even the clicking of the second hand was slower during those nights. At first she found these restless nights much better than nights filled with nightmares that she forgot once she woke up, but left her knowing that aching pain of pain, loss, and hopelessness. There were flashes of better times that she yearn to have more in her dreams, but they were always followed by those horrible nightmares.

Pushing back that horrible ache, she tried to focus on studying the cars that passed by her window, never noticing that there was a horribly, starved furball that she had loved standing out there staring at her. Crookshanks missed her. She was a much-adored friend he had, but he knew that his presence would endanger her. Since she did not remember how to protect herself with magic, he needed to stay away from her. However, it did not keep him from studying her afar and learning more about how she was. He knew that she would gain her memory back one-day and returned to him. Until then, he would wait. It was true that he could wait with other Order members, but he needed to be as close to her as possible to watch over her.


End file.
